Shadows of Desire

THADEN

There was something happening in Basmorte. Something that wasn't good. Even the wolves who lived north of Rosegate seemed tense as though they were anticipating trouble.

For decades the vamps had been quiet, keeping to themselves, isolated and shrouded in mystery. Now, there was chatter and rumors spreading as far as Night Port, the cross roads between realms, and Thaden didn't like it.

He'd sent scouts out to investigate and was nervously awaiting their return. Nasir was the first to return with Selanor right on his heels.

"Report?" Thaden commanded as Nasir entered the Prince's chambers.

Nasir bowed before him, his dark hair falling over his eyes, one arm draped over his knee, his other hand gripped the hilt of his sword out of habit. He waited for Thaden to signal him to rise before standing and facing the Prince.

"There are rumors coming out of Basmorte that King Desmond's youngest child, Prince Rowan, has been found dead in his chambers."

Thaden raised an eyebrow. "Murder?" He asked.

Nasir shook his head. "Apparently suicide. Poison, they think. My sources say that he was being forced into an arranged marriage. One that he didn't agree with. I suppose he thought death was his only way out."

"Hm." Thaden crossed his arms then walked over to stand in front of the hearth, warming himself by the fire, as he thought about what this news could mean for Rosegate. "I don't know much about Prince Rowan." He stated, still studying the fire. "Just that he was young, barely nineteen, and that the vamp King kept him fairly isolated."

"Rumor has it, he was also an omega." Selanor spoke up.

Nasir scoffed. "Impossible. There are no omegas within the vamp realm. Their genders are strictly male and female."

"There haven't been for nearly a century." Thaden corrected. "The last one was a blood born. A human omega turned vamp by his high born lover. They were both executed though, and there hasn't been another since."

"Not until Prince Rowan." Selanor interjected. "If the rumors are true."

Thaden sighed. "And so another innocent omega lost to the cruelty of vampires."

"He can hardly be considered innocent." Nasir narrowed his eyes hatefully. "He was a vampire after all."

"He was a boy." Thaden stated, flatly. "No matter what his parentage, he was a boy that barely got the chance to live. Such a waste."

Betrayal

King Desmond was furious. "How dare he?" He shouted at the poor servant who had the great misfortune of informing the King that his only son was found dead, in his bed, apparently having taken his own life. "How dare that insolent little bastard humiliate me this way?" He slammed his fist down on the hard oak dinning room table so hard that a deep crack splintered and snaked along the center of the table. "I should have had the brat guarded until his wedding night!" He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed in frustration.

Lady Caroline tried to hide her smile as she glanced towards her daughter and a knowing look passed between the two. Emilia smirked as she cut into the slice of ham on her plate. This was just the news she'd been waiting to hear.

"I suppose you'll have one of the servants take word of the Prince's demise to Lord Killian?" Lady Caroline asked as she took a sip of the blood wine next to her plate. "I'm sure he'll be most devastated by the news."

"No, I should deliver the news in person." The King growled. "I'm sure he'll want compensation for the loss." Rage flashed in his eyes at the thought of having to pay anything for an omega who, in his eyes, held no value at all.

"Perhaps some good will come from this tragedy." Lady Caroline was quick to try and quell the King's anger.

"What good could possibly come of this?" The King hissed. "I had a deal with Lord Killian. Now because of my coward of a son, that deal has been broken and I am back to having no heir!"

"Well," Lady Caroline sat her wine glass down as her mouth twisted into a sinister grin. "That part can be taken care of as soon as we wed. I, my love, will provide you with many sons. But, as far as your deal with Lord Killian, I have a solution to that as well. Lady Emilia is available and quite smitten with the Duke. She will make an adequate replacement and, if I may, your Majesty, a much more suitable bride. He should have chosen her in the first place but, I'm willing to forgive his poor judgment. Once they are married."

The King narrowed his eyes as he glared at his fiance. "Devious and shrewd as always my dear. If I didn't know any better, I would think you had orchestrated this entire debacle just to ensure your daughter's marriage to the Duke."

Lady Caroline chuckled. "You flatter me, my love. But no. I would never go against your decree. I am simply trying to find the silver lining in all this. Lord Killian and Emilia would be a perfect match and would solve your problem of having to compensate the Duke financially."

"Are you positive that this isn't some scheme to ensure your daughter becomes Queen? Because, if it is, let me assure you, my Lady, that will never happen. Only my blood will assume the throne when I am gone and as I have many centuries left in me, I will no doubt find a wife who will produce a male heir. Whether that is you or not remains to be seen."

Lady Caroline pressed her lips into a straight, thin line. Her fist clenched around the handle of the knife she held and her blood began to boil. You will not live long enough to see your heir born. She thought. Of that I will make sure.

"Of course not, my love." She forced a smile as she attempted to compose herself. "I was merely suggesting a solution. It is up to you if you take my advice or not."

The King nervously stroked his beard as he thought over the predicament he was in. "I'll take it under advisement." He said finally, returning to his seat. He stared at the food in front of him, no longer having much of an appetite. His conversation with Lord Killian was not going to be a pleasant one and he loathed the idea of having to pay the man anything. The Duke already had more lands than any other noble in Basmorte and more wealth than he knew what to do with.

The King drummed his fingers on the table top. He was in a precarious position. It was no secret that what Lord Killian craved more than wealth was power. That was why he was so eager to wed Rowan. It would ensure his place within the royal family, something he'd sought after for years but was never able to attain. When word came to the King that Lord Killian was beginning to grow his personal guard into a small army, King Desmond became concerned. His own army was vast and could easily overpower Killian's guard but that wasn't what worried him.

Killian had begun to gain favor with the nobles and already had a few of the most powerful families in Basmorte in his back pocket. His influence and power over the Kingdom was beginning to grow from just being a slight inconvenience to a potential threat. If he managed to sway the gentry as well as the peasantry his way, well, there could be a full scale rebellion in the works. The union of Lord Killian and Prince Rowan was meant to ally the two houses as well as allow King Desmond to keep an eye on the Duke. It seemed the King's plan had now died with Rowan, leaving him vulnerable again.

Still, perhaps Caroline was right. Emilia wasn't his blood but she would become his step-daughter once he and Lady Caroline were wed and King Desmond could officially give her the title of Princess if he so desired. It infuriated him to think of that spoiled and entitled little wench calling herself royalty but what was worse? Indulging her fantasies a little or giving Lord Killian cause to rally his forces and lead an insurrection? No, Desmond couldn't allow that. He did not have the forces nor the finances to survive a war with the nobles. If peace meant sacrificing Emilia to the Duke then Desmond would offer her up on a silver platter. At least, he thought, It would get the little bitch out of my hair.

***

After the morning meal was concluded, Lady Caroline and Lady Emilia retired to Caroline's sitting room. Once there, she dismissed the servants and locked the door.

Emilia dropped herself down in one of her mother's cushioned arm chairs and giggled like a silly school girl. "I still can't believe the little fool actually trusted that I wanted to help him."

"Yes." Lady Caroline smiled with pride as she stroked the side of Emilia's face. "You can be quite persuasive when you want to be, my dear. Even I'll admit, I was skeptical that the plan would work. I was almost certain that the Prince would see through the ruse and alert the King."

That was her biggest fear. If the King discovered her treachery, what would he have done to her? The Prince's death had to look like suicide, there was no other way. If he had discovered that the vile he'd been given was, in fact, poison and had gone to the King then Lady Caroline as well as Emilia would have been executed. No matter how the King felt about his son, the murder of a Prince was an offense punishable by death.

"You're plan was perfect, mother." Emilia squealed in delight. "Now that the little bitch is gone, there is nothing that will stand in my way. I will be married to the Duke before the month is out."

"Do not get ahead of yourself." Lady Caroline warned as she sat in her chair near the fire. She brushed a stray hair away from her face then laid her arm over the arm rest. "First we have to convince the Duke that it would be in his best interest to marry you which, I don't think will be that difficult. What with all of your charms and attributes."

"Oh I think I can convince him." Lady Emilia cocked an eyebrow as a sinful smirk played across her crimson lips. "I have just the thing to encourage him." She said, placing a hand against her abdomen. "He won't refuse me when he learns of my delicate condition."

Caroline's eyes lit up and she grinned wickedly. "Why, my sweet child, you are a cunning little vixen, aren't you?"

"My mother taught me well." She laughed.

"I'm glad to see that all my lessons paid off." Lady Caroline nodded. "That bastard Prince never stood a chance. Killian was always meant to be yours."

"Indeed." Emilia looked to the flickering flames burning brightly beside her. "And, I will always go after what is rightfully mine. Always."

Sacrifice

Rowan had been dressed in his bridal suit. His hair neatly brushed and a circular reef of golden leaves placed on his head. His hands were folded and placed on his chest with a white lily held between his fingers. His head rested on a white satin pillow and a white shroud was placed over him. He looked serene, peaceful...merely sleeping.

King Desmond stood before the coffin where his son lay but the look on his face was not of sorrow or grief, as one would expect from a grieving father, but of anger and hate. He glared at the servants who had gathered around the sleeping Prince, daring them to utter a single sound. Not a tear was shed for fear the King would punish any who did.

Lady Caroline stood next to the King, looking complacent as she looked over the body. Emilia stood to her mother's left, near Lord Killian who stood, brooding, as he looked upon his fiance with a pensive stare. His eyes narrowed and he balled his hands into two tight fists as he clenched his jaw.

Emilia hooked her arm through his and leaned into him but Killian immediately pulled back, glaring at her angrily. "I would advise you to keep your hands off me, my Lady. Lest you wish to lose an arm." He sneered.

"My Lord?" She looked up at him, her expression pained. "I meant only to comfort you, My Lord."

"Comfort me?" He challenged. "Do not think for one moment that I believe you actually care."

"Oh, but I do." She insisted. "I care deeply. I can only imagine what pain you must feel right now. Your suffering must be great."

"I am sure, my Lady, that my suffering is your greatest pleasure."

Emilia frowned, leaning her head against Killian's arm. "Why would you say such a thing, my Lord. My greatest pleasure has always been your happiness."

"If you expect me to believe that, then you must think me a fool." He growled.

"No, but I do think that you mourn the loss of a foolish child who never loved you."

"He loved me no more than I loved him." Lord Killian scoffed. He pushed Emilia away from him then slowly stepped forward, leaning over the coffin as he sighed. "But, there is no doubt that his presence in my life would have enriched my existence."

Lady Emilia pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes. "What could he have possibly provided you with that I can not?" She hissed.

Lord Killian traced a finger along Rowan's cheek now cold and devoid of life. He turned and looked at Lady Emilia with an expression so tragic that for a brief moment she swore she saw actual tears in his eyes. "A soul, my Lady. A breath of humanity lost to our kind through centuries of cold, endless, decay. That spark of life that we seek each time we feed on the living. He had that. I have no idea how, but he had it and it shone brighter in him than in the brightest sun. Whether it was his youth, his kindness, his passion, or some other mysterious virtue which I could never hope to understand, whatever it was, I craved it. Craved it to the point of obsession."

Killian allowed his fingers to trail along the edge of the coffin as he moved away from it's side. He focused his eyes on Emilia, taking in her visage, stopping to stare into her eyes. His stare bore into her as though he were looking past her eyes and seeing what lay beneath them. "You are beautiful, my Lady, but it's all glamour. Behind the fair skin, raven hair, and icy blue eyes is a black void lacking in anything pure or good. With him, it wasn't so. His beauty transcended the flesh as he breathed life into everything around him. But you, Lady Emilia, are rotten from the inside. A festering husk of filth and putridness. You will never compare to him, my Lady. You would simply burn to ash in his light."

Killian brushed past her leaving the cathedral as well as the others behind. He couldn't stay a moment longer, not even to watch the internment. There was something, something painful that ripped through the still heart in his chest. It felt like a vise squeezing and twisting his insides till he felt he might collapse and die from the agony he felt. He wasn't vain enough to believe that he actually loved Rowan but the regret that he felt was just as strong. Regret, grief, rage...whatever it was he was feeling, it was ripping him apart inside.

He quickly fled into an empty chamber within the church and when he was sure that he was alone, he fell to his knees and wailed, slamming his fists into the floor over and over again until his hands were bloodied and raw. "Damn you!" He cried out, suddenly falling to the floor, hugging himself as he curled up on his side. "Damn you all to hell!"

***

Folen stood at the side of the coffin looking down, the soft glow of candlelight cast flickering shadows on Rowan's face, giving an ethereal quality to his stillness. As the priest opened the cathedral to the nobles inhabiting the kingdom, small groups mourners approached, one by one, their steps heavy with grief. Some carried fragrant bouquets of roses, their vibrant colors contrasting with the solemn atmosphere. The room was permeated with the scent of flowers and the unmistakable aroma of sorrow.

Each man and woman giving their deepest condolences to the hardened King, their hearts heavy with the weight of the loss of a Prince they barely knew. The loss of life was never an easy thing to bear but the death of one so young was even more tragic. Folen was closest to him but she shed no tears as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, little one." She whispered, a hint of a smile on her pale lips. "Dream sweet dreams and sleep. When next you wake, this will all have been but a distant memory and your life will begin anew."

Outside, rain began to fall, its gentle patter against the windows seeming to echo the collective sorrow within the room. As the mourners paid their respects, Rowan's presence remained palpable, reminding them of the fragility and preciousness of life. The mourners took the opportunity to say their final farewells to Rowan, their tears mingling with the rain and they whispered silent prayers to Sheul, the vampire God, that Rowan find his place in the moonlit gardens of Sheowan and earn his eternal rest.

The mourners stepped back, making way as the lid to the coffin was put in place and nailed down before being lifted up and carried to the royal tomb where Rowan would join his ancestors. Folen stood by, watching as the door to the tomb was closed and sealed, the gate enclosing it locked. King Desmond turned and left as soon as he heard the metal clang of the gate slide into place. His part done. He had laid to rest his second son though Rowan did not get the same farewell that his older brother had. King Desmond felt no love, no remorse, and no grief over Rowan's death.

He felt nothing. To him, it was as if the boy had simply never existed at all.

Awakening

The moon shone brightly in the dark sky. The beautiful, round, fullness of the moon casting an iridescent glow on the ground below. It was midnight. The wolves ran the forests, howling their cries of freedom and glee as they did what wolves were meant to do. Their power at it's peak. This was their time. The night belonged to the packs, to the children of the moon.

Not a vampire was in sight. The shops closed, the streets empty as everyone, man, woman, and child had returned safely to their homes. The only ones out were sentry's and guards posted at look out towers throughout the city. The wolves haven't attacked in decades but King Desmond took no chances. Not on a full moon. Not when the line between man and beast was hazy at best. If any vampire were found too close to the Wolfhaven boarder they would be killed on sight, ripped to shreds and left to bleed out, no hope of regenerating.

It was the perfect night for wolves, for tricksters, and Aos Si--the people of the mounds. The perfect time for fairy magic and for raising the dead. Under the shadow of night, Folen crept towards the tomb where Rowan slept. She touched the lock on the grate and watched as it opened, falling to the earth. Slowly, she slid the gate open and stepped inside. The door to the tomb would be harder to move. Her magic unsealed it easily but it was too heavy for her to move alone.

She waited only a moment before she saw movent to her right. The shadows parted and a man slowly stepped out to stand beside her. "Took ye long enough, Bhalor." She frowned. "Ye were suppose to meet me here at midnight."

"My apologies, my Lady." Bhalor removed the hood from his head and knelt down on one knee before her. "I had a little trouble getting past a sentry near the east wall."

Folen understood at once. Even with his concealing magic, Bhalor was a beast of a man. Standing nearly 7 feet with brawn that matched. His massive frame was hidden beneath a brown cloak but even with his magic, he was bulky and somewhat clumsy. He made too much noise tromping around with his massive boots.

She sniffed the air around him and grimaced. "No wonder." She groused. "Ya didn't conceal yer scent ya big oaf. Ya smell like swamp weed and muskgrass."

Bhalor lifted one monstrous arm and sniffed. "Good for wardin off vamps." He said with a grin.

Folen rolled her eyes. "Just move this bloody door."

"Right away, madam." His deep voice boomed in the darkness. Folen chided him for being too loud.

Folen stepped to the side as Bhalor moved to the door, looking it over for a second before grabbing it in both his massive hands and effortlessly pulled it open. Folen pushed him aside and entered the crypt, Bhalor following closely behind. Standing next to Rowan's coffin, Folen motioned for Bhalor to remove the lid.